


Sometimes It Hurts Instead

by samyazaz



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Arguing, Break Up, Getting Back Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2069499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samyazaz/pseuds/samyazaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Éponine would be so fucking proud of him, but all Grantaire wants is to go drink away the sight of Enjolras looking at him like an abused dog, resigned to being kicked.</p>
<p>How <i>fucking dare he.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes It Hurts Instead

It's been six months since Grantaire has even seen Enjolras, and now he's standing in front of his door at three in the morning looking like hell. There are circles under his eyes and a livid bruise across one cheek, still too new to have even darkened to purple yet. His lip is split and scabbed over and there's a bandage poking out from beneath the collar of his shirt that explains the ginger way Enjolras is holding that arm against his side, like every movement hurts. More than that, his eyes are weary and wounded, and it's almost enough to make Grantaire forget what happened six months ago and drag him inside and demand to know what the hell happened as he subjects Enjolras to peroxide and band-aids and a thorough inspection of the damages.

_Almost._

Grantaire keeps his grip on the handle and the edge of the jamb and keeps himself in the middle of the doorway. He doesn't make any room for Enjolras to pass by, doesn't give up even an inch.

Éponine would be so fucking proud of him, but all Grantaire wants is to go drink away the sight of Enjolras looking at him like an abused dog, resigned to being kicked.

How _fucking dare he._

"What do you want?" he demands when the silence stretches between them long enough that it becomes obvious Enjolras isn't going to speak on his own.

Enjolras draws a deep breath and flinches like he's in pain at the end of it. He runs his tongue over his lip and cringes again when it swipes over the place where it's split open. "We arrested Patron-Minette today. The whole organization, all the way up to the top."

Grantaire stares at him a beat, waiting for him to say something to make the non sequitur make sense, but Enjolras just stands there like that's supposed to mean something. "Congratulations?" Grantaire shakes his head, baffled. "Look, if you want someone to pat your back, don't you have friends for that? Or did you run all of them off, too?"

Enjolras drops his gaze and worries at the split in his lip. "May I come in?"

He says it like it's an actual question, not the way he normally would, like the answer's a given and he's just waiting for invitation as a formality. That in itself is enough to make Grantaire stop and look twice at him before he slams the door in his face. "It's three o'clock in the morning."

"It's important."

"No. I don't think so. No, you may not come in." Grantaire stands back and folds his arms over his chest. "If you've got something to say, spit it out and then go."

Enjolras draws a breath, grimaces again and touches a hand to his ribs. "Something happened six months ago."

"I fucking _know_ what happened six months ago, Enjolras! I was there!"

"No." His voice whips out, stronger than it's been during the whole conversation. He lifts his head and his eyes are burning. "No, you weren't. Six months ago, when we were just starting to close in on Patron-Minette, we got a package at the precinct. There were pictures inside, pictures of the loved ones of every single officer on the case." He stops to catch his breath again. His hands curl at his sides. "Pictures of you."

A cold finger runs down Grantaire's spine, but he's too furious to pay it much notice. "I'm an artist with a website and a portfolio online, anyone with an internet connection can google—"

"They were _photographs_ , Grantaire, for fuck's sake, taken with a telephoto lens, someone was stalking you." He stops and visibly collects himself, adds almost as an afterthought, "Someone was stalking all of you. Everyone we care about. They painted targets on all your heads. It was a pretty obvious message."

Grantaire spins on his heel and stalks into the apartment, because this is pretty much guaranteed to lead to nowhere good and he tries to be a better neighbor than to have screaming matches in the hall at three in the morning.

When he turns back, Enjolras is still standing in the hall, watching him. Grantaire lets out a sharp breath. "Oh for God's sake, you can come in. Jesus Christ."

Permission given, Enjolras comes inside, closes the door carefully behind himself, then stands with the width of Grantaire's living room between them. Grantaire wishes he'd come closer, and thinks if he does he might scream.

"So." Grantaire leans his hip back against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest again. "Someone threatened me. I guess it was good luck for you that they did it right before you planned to dump me, hmm? Makes it easy, I presume."

"Easy." Enjolras gives a hollow laugh and stares at him, agape. "Christ, R, are you being this obtuse deliberately? They _threatened your life_ and I couldn't— The only way to keep you safe was to keep you away from me."

He's had the slow, sickening feeling that this was what Enjolras was leading up to for several moments now. His hands are shaking. He reaches into the cabinet for a glass and a bottle, pours himself a drink and shoots Enjolras a look that defies him to pass comment.

Enjolras doesn't say anything, just stares at him like he thinks he has the right to ask a damn thing of Grantaire anymore.

"I would think very, very carefully about what you say next." Grantaire's fingers are tight around the glass, trembling just a little. "Because if you're about to tell me that all of this, the past six months, has been to protect me, I may very well shoot you with your own gun."

"I'm not carrying it," Enjolras says on a rush, like he's been holding himself back. "There were shots fired tonight, they took it into evidence to run ballistics, it's standard protocol."

He hears _shots fired_ and he stares at the bandage peeking out from under Enjolras's shirt and the careful way he holds his arm and there's a part of him that wants to be sick at the image those pieces make when they're put together, but he forces his reaction down and forces his voice to remain as level as it can be. "I really could not care less."

Enjolras steps toward him. Everything about him is pleading, and Grantaire hates it violently. "I had to keep you away. They had to think you meant nothing to me, so they'd have no reason to hurt you."

The trembling in Grantaire's hands is getting more obvious with every word Enjolras speaks. Grantaire's voice shakes when he says, "You told me I wasn't good enough for you."

Enjolras drops his gaze, but not before Grantaire sees his face flood with shame and regret. "I had to make you believe it. I had to make you think… I couldn't have you sticking around, Grantaire. I couldn't have you thinking we could stay friends. If you were still close, you were still in danger."

"So you thought the solution was to rip my heart to pieces." He's shaking too hard to keep still anymore, he's going to fall apart, and it surprises himself almost as much as Enjolras when he spins and hurls his drink against the wall, showering the floor in a spray of alcohol and shattered glass. _"God damn you, Enjolras."_

Enjolras chews on his lip for a moment. "I hurt you—"

"You _destroyed me_."

Enjolras shuts his eyes like he's pained, and that is so fucking unfair. Grantaire would take a swing at him if he hadn't already obviously been beaten to within an inch of his life. "R."

"Fuck you. _Fuck you._ Did Marius divorce Cosette?"

Enjolras's brow wrinkles, and he opens his eyes to frown at Grantaire. "What?"

"Your _partner_ , Enjolras. Marius. Did he divorce Cosette when those photos showed up, to keep her safe?"

"No. He didn't."

"And she's still alive, I assume."

"Of course—"

"So there were options. There were other options, and you _chose_ the one that would _hurt me_."

"Cosette's been in protective custody for the past six months," Enjolras says quietly. "Combeferre's been working with Doctors Without Borders to keep him out of the country and out of the line of fire. Everyone's made sacrifices, Grantaire."

"But they're _together_. And I bet they had at least a little bit of a choice in the matter, didn't they?"

Enjolras reaches up with his bad arm, like he means to scrub a hand over his face, but cries out at the first movement and lets it fall back to his side, his face suddenly gone pale and sweaty. "You'd never have agreed to around-the-clock protection. You never would have—"

"I'd have chosen anything over this, Enjolras. _Anything_. And at least I'd have had a choice. And I wouldn't have had to hear the man I love tell me I was worthless. Do you think that's something I'll ever be able to forget?"

"I'm sorry, R. I'm so sorry." Enjolras looks like he's shaking, too. Grantaire wishes he were petty enough to be pleased by that. "I'd have done anything, sacrificed anything, to keep you safe. I love you."

The words take Grantaire out at the knees. He staggers across the living room, sinks down onto the couch and buries his head in his hands. "That's not fair."

"I know it's not." Enjolras comes to him, kneels in front of him. "It's the truth. I love you. That's why I'm here, at three in the morning, with two holes in me and two dozen stitches. I'd have come earlier, but they only just discharged me. I had to tell you, as soon as I could, as soon as it was safe. I love you."

Grantaire shuts his eyes, but it doesn't stop the tears that scald his cheeks. "I hate you," he whispers, broken.

"I deserve it." Enjolras takes his hands and grips them tight, even though it makes him catch his breath in pain."You don't have to forgive me. I know I have no right to ask for that. But everything I said six months ago was a lie. I wanted you to hear the truth. I'll go now, if you want." He starts to rise.

Grantaire doesn't let go of his hands. It forces Enjolras to drop back down to his knees. Enjolras looks at him, curious. "Don't," Grantaire says, hoarse. "Christ. Don't go. That's not what I want."

Enjolras sighs and settles back onto his haunches. "Whatever you want."

"Say it again."

"I love you."

Grantaire gasps for air, tears pouring down his cheeks. Enjolras kneels with him, lets it tear through him until Grantaire can straighten and dash the last tears from his eyes with the back of his wrist. "Are you shot?"

Enjolras grimaces and lifts his good hand to rub over the bandage on his shoulder. "It was a through-and-through. Didn't hit any major arteries. I'm going to be fine."

"You're _shot_. You could have died, and I would've never…"

"You would've never known," Enjolras finishes softly for him when he can't continue. "It's all I could think about, all the way to the hospital, all night while they patched me up. I wanted you to know."

"You're such an asshole."

"I know."

Grantaire fills his lungs with an unsteady breath. "Come on. Come to bed."

Enjolras balks when Grantaire gets to his feet and tries to lead him to the bedroom. "Grantaire. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure that your doctors gave you instructions to rest before they discharged you."

Enjolras nods. "They were very stern about it."

"Well then. I'm not going to have you tearing open your stitches on my watch." He squeezes Enjolras's hand, the good one, that won't hurt him. He is abruptly weary beyond the telling of it. "It's enough, Enjolras," he says softly. "We'll talk about it in the morning. We'll be talking about it for days, I expect. But it's enough for now."

They leave the light off while they undress, and Grantaire's grateful for it. He doesn't think he could bear seeing Enjolras's injuries, not now. Not yet. Grantaire's naked first, and he climbs into bed to wait. When the mattress dips beneath Enjolras's weight, Grantaire pulls him close and wraps his arms around him.

It's not what they used to have, seven months ago before everything went to hell. It's going to take them a long time to get back to that point. It might never be the same again. But he meant what he said.

It's enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the prompt, "I'm kind of wanting something angsty so exr where Enjolras has to break up with R for his own good (he's being threatened?) So he does the whole you're not good enough for me and R just takes it and there is sad but then later hea" and posted to tumblr [here](http://samyazaz.tumblr.com/post/87569459800/prompt-thing-im-kind-of-wanting-something-angsty-so#notes).


End file.
